


Sing It Back to You

by last_illusions (injured_eternity)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, CM Family Verse, Families of Choice, LGBT families, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injured_eternity/pseuds/last_illusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m glad you didn’t let me walk away.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing It Back to You

_Sing us a song,  
And we'll sing it back to you.  
We could sing our own,  
But what would it be without you?_  
\--Paramore, "My Heart"

“Dave?”

It takes a moment for that to register, slipping into the mist of conscious thought like a beam of light, displacing without destroying. Beside him, Aaron is propping himself up on an elbow, curiosity and concern flitting through eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

“You all right?”

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he turns to face his partner. His arm is going numb from being braced behind his head at that angle, anyway; it could use a change of pace. “I’m glad you didn’t let me walk away,” he says, slowly.

He’s been thinking these thoughts since morning, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to voice them—as proven when Aaron starts, all traces of sleep chased from his eyes in the face of another familial rift they might not survive. He’s just scared the ever-loving hell out of the younger man. Good start to the morning.

“No, Aaron, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

The attorney blows out a long breath, collapsing back into the pillows like gravity’s just one thing too many to hold up against. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should stop jumping like a frightened horse every time something to do with leaving comes out of your mouth.” There’s a wry, slightly self-deprecating expression flitting across his partner’s face, melancholy butterfly kisses; though the thought of how, exactly, he’s going to find Jason Gideon and kill him is not an unfamiliar one, he refuses to let it in—not this morning, of all mornings.

“I should know better,” he counters aloud. _Get left enough and it starts becoming par for the course_. “No, what I meant was…” Sighing, he shakes his head, and Aaron reaches for his hand, running his thumb across Dave’s knuckles. “I meant… you know that conversation we had? The one where I told you I wasn’t fit to be a parent?”

“You mean the one where you tried to break up with me?” Aaron’s tone is gentle in its pointed rebuke, even as he rolls his eyes at his own phrasing.

“Yeah, that one.” Wincing—the conversation is as unpleasant a memory as some of his divorces—he moves on, bypassing it like it’s a damaged road. And maybe it is, in some senses. “That’s all I meant, that I’m glad you made me stay.”

A slow smile turns up the corners of the younger man’s mouth, warming him with its unfiltered openness. “So am I,” he replies, squeezing Dave’s hand. “I told you so.”

He raises an eyebrow, indignant. “Did you _really_ have to say that?”

Laughing aloud, Aaron nods. “Yes, yes I did.”

Huffing out a half-laugh in response, he rolls onto his side. The saying is that old dogs can’t learn new tricks, and while he definitely qualifies for the “old dog” bit, he’s still fighting against the learning portion. Old he might be, but he’s damn stubborn, too, like a pissed off mule. He’s horrible at face-to-face conversations with… well, anyone—a trait of men, he’d once been told by a psychologist—and all of his wives had hated it, but he’s trying to fix that with Aaron. He’s only been half-successful.

“I really thought we’d fall apart,” he admits reluctantly, like it’s a secret, even though it’s not. “Three wives and I… children were never in the picture. Fitting into your family was like… like trying to blend in in the middle of China.”

Aaron’s look adopts a whole lot of “…what?”, and Dave can’t blame him after that awful simile—it belongs in a book on “how not to write”.

Nonetheless, the young lawyer says only, “I think you’ve done a pretty nice job, all told.”

Dave just smiles, tacit acknowledgement of things he doesn’t know how to say. “And I have no idea how it happened.”

Chuckling softly, Aaron reaches up to cup the back of his neck. “You tried,” he answers simply, pulling him in for a kiss.

When they come up for air, Dave braces his forehead against Aaron’s. “Happy anniversary.”

“It really is.”

 _Finis._

 _Feedback is always appreciated._


End file.
